


Not Everything

by Xie



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: AU, Christmas, Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:45:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xie/pseuds/Xie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is an AU. Brian and Justin have never met, and Stockwell has been elected Mayor of Pittsburgh. It's the Christmas Eve after the election, and Brian is about to move to New York. Then he meets a new dancer at Babylon, who isn't what he seems to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Everything

**Author's Note:**

> Possibly a tiny bit angsty at first. And in case you're wondering, yes, this is the go-go dancing angel!Justin fic.

  
  
____spacer____

Brian Kinney leaned against the bar at Babylon. Its edge cut into his back, but he ignored it, just like he ignored the glances from the great river of unfuckables that flowed past him on the edge of the dance floor.

It was a nothing night, a night that didn't matter. Babylon's final closing was still a week away, on New Year's Eve. This was just Christmas Eve, with the crowds thinner than usual, and the dancers on the platforms and bars dressed up like angels, bathed in white and gold lights.

"See how many guys want to suck your dick now," Debbie had hissed at him earlier at the diner. But of course, she was full of shit. He'd had his dick in some guy's mouth almost before he'd settled against the backroom wall.

Brian got another drink, and watched the angels dancing. His face didn't change, but inside his head he laughed, thinking about the skanks Gary Sapperstein hired to dance at this place, pretty boys with shit for brains and vacant eyes. And then he dressed them up in angel wings.

The dancing boy on the furthest platform had gathered quite a crowd, and Brian watched him moving slowly as the song's beat stretched out, holding a rhythm none of the other dancers even seemed to hear. He moved one hip out and back. He lifted his arms and turned part-way around, then glanced over his shoulder, a little smile on his lips.

Brian watched the men shoving money into his angelic underwear, and snorted. He took another drink, and saw a white motion, a flurry, a jangle of light, next to him on the bar. It was the boy from the other side of the dance floor, dancing next to where Brian was standing, still moving his hips to that strange beat.

Brian shook his head, and frowned at his empty glass. The boy's foot lifted up and came down again, close to his hand. He looked up, pissed, and opened his mouth to tell the little fucker to watch where he was dancing.

The dancer had one arm draped backwards around his own shoulder, and was trailing the other across his bare stomach. His eyes were closed and he shifted away from Brian just a little, enough so that when he shimmied his hips, his ass – his very beautiful ass – was almost in Brian's face.

And then he opened his eyes, and glanced down at Brian, and smiled. And Brian, who hadn't been left stupid by the look in a boy's eyes since he was a boy himself, just blinked.

"Help me down?" The dancer had stretched out his hand, and Brian automatically took it, letting him slide down off the bar. He kept his arms around him, out of habit, and because he knew the Sap hated it when the customers pawed the merchandise without making special arrangements with him first.

The dancer smiled at him again, the kind of smile no one ever used at Babylon. It was all shiny and fresh and full of brightness, not a nighttime smile meant to part you from your money and make you think of sex.

Although Brian was thinking of sex. Because the kid was gorgeous and half-naked and he had a great ass. Because he was fairly sure he wasn't, really, an angel underneath those wings.

Brian felt… dizzy? He wondered if the queers of Pittsburgh had bribed that bitch Anita to poison him. How the fuck had this kid gotten halfway across the club and onto the bar without Brian noticing? Then the dancer smiled again, and Brian let himself look into his eyes. There was a smile in them, too.

"You seem remarkably happy for a boy who's going to be out of a job in a week." Brian let his arms fall off the dancer's shoulders.

A flare of confusion crossed his features, and then the smile was back. "I'm only here for the holidays, anyway," he said. "It doesn't matter."

Brian picked up the glass of Chivas the bartender had refilled without him asking. He let the hot liquid fill his mouth and coat his throat, while the dancer ordered a beer. The boy smiled at him, then took a long swallow.

Brian wondered how old this kid was. Must be a college student, although he knew the Sap never did look at anyone's ID all that carefully, certainly not now when he was closing in a week, the last holdout on Liberty Avenue against Mayor-elect Stockwell's plans for a family-friendly neighborhood.

All the other clubs had closed before or right after the election, just like the baths had. Even the diner, which was as family-friendly as Liberty Avenue got, was closing. Hence Debbie's bitter words. Hence Brian at Babylon on Christmas Eve, and not choking down eggnog at Chez Novotny.

He shook his head again. "Well, happy dancing," he told the kid, and walked away. The baths were closed, the weather too cold for the alleys, and the cops were everywhere, anyway. He got his leather jacket and pushed out to the street, lighting a cigarette and turning his collar up against the cold wind.

He was about to cross the street to his car when he saw a figure walking out of the steam from a sidewalk grate, a young guy with golden hair. One minute he was moving, and the next he was just leaning on the light pole, smiling.

Brian was standing in front of him, but he didn't remember walking over there, or throwing away his cigarette. He put his hand on the pole over the kid's head, and leaned down to whisper into his ear, "Where'd your wings go?"

The boy wound his arms around Brian's neck and said, "Take me home and find out."

So Brian did.

He drove home, even though he probably shouldn't have been driving. The kid followed him into the building, and Brian glanced at him while they were riding up in the elevator. He almost pulled him against him, but didn't.

Brian meant to be cool when they got inside, hold off at first, try to play this for a while, but the kid was all over him the minute the door closed. His hands were on the back of Brian's neck, and he was on his toes, grinding their cocks together. Brian gripped the back of his ass, bending his knees and pulling him up against him, hard.

And then he kissed him. His mouth was soft and warm, and it opened up under Brian's tongue just the way he liked. Brian felt that same dizziness he'd noticed at Babylon, and he wondered about Anita again, but forgot it when the boy's hand tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck. He tried to breathe into the kiss, but the room was spinning around.

Brian took one step backwards, and cupped the kid's face with his hands. He looked at him, his lips swollen and his eyes glassy and dark. He smiled again, a softer smile than before, but still so full of light. "Sweet…" Brian heard himself saying, and then almost laughed. Where the fuck did that come from? This kid's cock was hard and straining against Brian's. That's why he was there, and there was nothing _sweet _about it.

Brian dragged him to the bedroom and pushed him onto the bed. He stripped while the boy watched, resting on his elbows, his eyes serious, his lips parted. Brian knelt between his legs, and used his knees to spread them further apart. The boy tipped back his head and Brian could see the pulse beating in his throat.

His skin was so soft, Brian thought, as he kissed it and bit it. He watched it turn rosy and blotchy from his teeth and from desire. He bit it some more, bringing the blood to the surface and trying to keep it there. He wasn't sure why he was marking the kid, but all that white soft skin was making him crazy.

He didn't know when the boy got naked, but he was, and that skin was pressed against Brian everywhere. His legs were spread and wrapped around him, and Brian had a condom in his hand. He tried to focus on what was happening, but it was just smooth and warm and the feeling of being wrapped in this boy, of falling into him.

"Who are you?" he heard his voice saying against his throat.

"Justin," the kid answered. But Brian hadn't been asking his name.

____

Brian woke up the next morning with a terrible taste in his mouth and a blond asleep on his chest. He lay there trying to remember the night before, but only bits and glimmers of memory made it through the fog in his brain. He shook his head, and the man – boy? fucking hell, boy – opened his eyes. And smiled. And blinked. Brian felt his cock get hard.

"Good morning."

Brian didn't say anything, and the guy just smiled. "And Merry Christmas."

Brian grunted at that. "Thanks for reminding me. Who the fuck are you?"

"Justin." Brian didn't say anything. "Can I use your shower before I go?"

Brian nodded vaguely in the direction of the bathroom, and, while the kid showered, went to check his messages. There weren't any, and he shoved his hand through his hair.

Brian went into the bathroom and pissed, watching the kid – Justin – showering. The stall was full of steam, but Brian could see his soft skin and the curve of his ass just fine. He opened the door and Justin grinned at him when he stepped into the shower.

Brian didn't say anything, just filled his hand with shampoo and started washing Justin's hair. There were little bits of glitter in it, and as Brian watched them run down his body with the water and the soap, he remembered. The dancer. The angel wings. The softest mouth he'd ever kissed. And he kissed it again.

He held them both under the hot water, until they were rinsed clean. Then he turned Justin around with his hands. His skin was pink from the water, and Brian's fingers left white marks on it. He slid down, tracing a rivulet of water with his tongue. He pulled Justin's ass open with his hands, and the boy gave a gasp and leaned his forehead against the tile wall. Brian touched his asshole lightly with his tongue, then slid it inside the tight ring, feeling it tense, then relax and let him in.

He murmured against Justin's hole, licking and nibbling, letting one hand slide around and play with his balls, his thumb stroking the smooth spot behind them.

Justin spread his legs wide, and Brian could hear his breathing speed up. He was making little sounds every time he exhaled, and Brian started trying to make him moan and whimper. He moved his hand to Justin's cock, and rubbed his thumb over the leaking head, spreading the moisture down the shaft. He kept fucking his ass with his tongue and jerking on his cock, and Justin threw his head back and said his name. "Brian."

Brian almost stopped, because it sounded… reverent. He didn't know another word for it. But he kept licking Justin's ass and fisting his cock, and tried not to think about what made him say his name that way.

Justin's cock went rigid in Brian's hand, so he slowed down and loosened his grip. Justin whimpered, but Brian kissed his way back up Justin's back, stood up, and reached for a condom from the soap dish. He eased himself into Justin's ass, holding his hips and angling himself inside.

Brian groaned when Justin's head fell back on his chest and his ass tightened on him. He pulled out and pushed back in, and had that same sense of falling, falling into warmth and safety, sex and skin and light…. He bit Justin's shoulder and came, too soon, too hard. He panted behind him, holding him lightly while Justin's come spilled wet and warm on his hand. Justin's eyes were closed, and he was smiling softly, his hands crossed over Brian's arms.

Brian pulled out of Justin, too roughly, but Justin didn't do anything more than flinch. Brian opened the shower door and tossed him a towel, then walked into the bedroom, drying his hair. It was definitely time for Justin to leave.

But he didn't. When he came out, his hair all wet and spiky, Brian started to tell him to get out. But there was a bite mark on his white shoulder, and Brian remembered him dancing in his angel wings, and thought… what the fuck else do I have to do today? So he tugged him back into his arms, and kissed him.

If Justin was confused by hot and cold Brian Kinney, he didn't show it. He kissed him back happily, his fingers tugging at Brian's wet hair, his cock getting hard again. He grinned up at Brian, folded his lips in for a second, and announced, "I'm starving."

Brian nuzzled him. "It's Christmas Day, and I haven't got anything to eat in the house. I'm not sure what's open."

"There's the Liberty Diner."

Brian looked at him sharply, but his eyes were completely clear. What the hell. Debbie and everyone he didn't want to run into were all busy today. And it was open, for a few more weeks, at least.

Brian couldn't believe the amount of food Justin managed to pack away. He'd ordered bacon and eggs, pancakes, and a chocolate milkshake. Brian almost lost what little appetite he had when it all arrived.

"You should eat," Justin said, chewing happily.

Brian nodded and took a bite of his omelet. "The food here sucks."

"I like it." He licked some syrup off his lips, and washed it down with milkshake. "It's delicious."

"Delicious." Brian mocked the way he said it.

Justin lifted an eyebrow at him. "It is." Then he stuck out his tongue.

Brian laughed. "What the fuck are you, ten?"

"Hardly." He let his eyes meet Brian's, then, and Brian suddenly remembered all the ways in which this kid wasn't a kid at all.

Although Justin ruined it all by blushing, and then going back to his bacon and eggs. Brian shuddered and looked around for someone to refill his coffee, then realized his cup was full. He sipped the coffee, and it was hot.

When they went out on the sidewalk, Brian decided enough was enough. "Well, take care of yourself…"

Justin touched his arm. "What are you doing today?"

Brian shrugged. "Nothing special."

Justin smiled at him, and Brian had that same strange sensation of sunlight and warmth on his face. "I can change that."

Brian laughed. "That's cheesy."

Justin just grinned harder, then stepped close to him. Brian kissed him without meaning to, tasting syrup on his lips. He sighed against Justin's mouth. "Don't you ever get enough?"

"There's no such thing as enough."

Brian jerked his head back and looked at Justin, his eyes narrowed. He'd said that a hundred times. But Justin looked like he always did, open and friendly. And, Brian thought, eyes dropping to Justin's crotch, horny.

So he shrugged and took him back to the loft.

Justin walked in the door and headed straight to the bedroom, stripping off his clothes.

"Make yourself at home." Brian was leaning in the bedroom doorway, watching Justin throw himself back on the bed, naked and hard.

"I am. C'mere."

Brian found himself obeying, and then stopped. Who the fuck did this kid think he was? "Turn over." His voice was low and his eyes lidded and dark.

Justin stared at him, and a flush spread over his cheeks. But he turned around, slowly, and went onto his hands and knees. He spread his knees a little, and then arched his back, and Brian wondered what had happened to the air in the room, because he couldn't seem to breathe.

He shook it off, stepped out of his jeans, and knelt behind Justin, rolling a condom on his cock. He took some lube and roughly shoved his wet finger up Justin's ass.

Justin pushed back on it, and moaned a little. "It's cold."

"It'll heat up," Brian said carelessly, and lined his cock up at Justin's hole. He meant to just fuck him, hard and like an animal, to show this kid it wasn't all tenderness and sunshine in bed with him. He pressed the head of his cock past his tight opening, gripped his hips, and slammed himself in.

Justin's head snapped up, and he was biting his lip. Brian didn't really want to hurt him, just fuck him rough, so he hesitated a minute. But Justin reached back and gripped his thigh, pulling on him. "Fuck me," he said, his voice gravelly and low.

Brian put his head down against Justin's smooth back, and slowly pressed himself inside, until he was flush up to his balls. Justin was rocking a little under him, his face buried in his arms. Brian pulled out, and rammed back in, and Justin said his name in a strangled voice Brian could hardly hear.

He fucked his ass hard and fast, and Justin was grunting and slamming his hips back to meet every thrust. Brian felt everything hot and tight around his cock, squeezing and holding him, letting him go, pulling him back.

Brian was bent over Justin, his lip caught in his teeth. With what tiny bit of awareness he still had, he realized his fingers were laced with Justin's on the bed. How did that happen? He shoved into him one last time and felt himself start to come, to melt into Justin's ass, which was clenching around him so tightly, too tightly, it wasn't possible for anything to hold him that close.

Brian's knees gave out under him. He fell asleep, or passed out, right there on Justin's back, their fingers still tangled together, their bodies slick with sweat.

It had just been getting dark when he fell asleep, but when Brian woke up, moonlight was streaming in his tall windows. Justin was sitting on top of him, straddling his thighs, and had Brian's cock in his hand.

"What are you doing?" he asked him, stupidly, since it was pretty obvious what he was doing: Rolling a condom on Brian's dick. There was a bottle of lube on the bed next to him, and Brian had a fairly good idea where that had gone.

Justin grinned at him and knelt up. He held Brian's cock at his hole, and then sank back on it. He gave a little cry and sat back up, and Brian bent his knees behind him, gripping Justin's hands with his.

"Easy," he said, then wondered why he said it. Justin let himself sink all the way down on Brian's cock. Brian tried not to gasp, and half-succeeded, letting just a half-caught breath escape.

"Aren't you sore?" He would have been. For days.

Justin wriggled on his cock, speculatively. "Not really. It feels good." He seemed surprised.

Brian laughed. "Haven't you ever done it this way before?"

Justin shook his head.

Brian frowned. "How old are you?"

"Old enough," he said, grinning again.

"Old enough… to drive?"

He laughed. "Yes."

"Old enough to vote?"

"Yes." Another laugh.

Brian stuck his tongue in his cheek. "Old enough to remember when dinosaurs walked the earth?"

Justin bent down and brushed his lips against Brian's ear. "Old enough to do this." And he squeezed his ass tight around Brian's cock, and he stopped asking questions.

The next morning, when Brian woke up, Justin was gone. At first he was confused, and wondered if it had been some kind of weird dream, but there were blond hairs on his dark sheets, and a wet towel in the bathroom. How the fuck had he slept through that? Then he thought about the marathon of fucking he'd just gone through with this kid, and figured even _he _could, occasionally, get fucked out.

He had planned on going to the office today, even though there would be only a skeleton staff. He dimly remembered Cynthia asking for a few days off, but he couldn't remember what he'd told her, or when she wanted them. He shrugged mentally; it didn't matter. She was either there or she wasn't.

She was. She followed him into his office, and closed the door. He raised an eyebrow at her, pulling open a drawer and taking out a bottle of aspirin. He swallowed four with a large gulp of his triple-shot latte.

"You look like hell." She was frowning.

"Thank you. Happy holidays to you, too." Brian closed his eyes and tried to will his headache away.

"Why don't you go home and rest? There's nothing to do here."

"Look, Cynthia, if you want the day off, take it. Take the rest of the week. In fact, feel free to take the rest of your life off. I really don't give a fuck." He opened his eyes, but he didn't look at her. He just stared at his computer screen while she slammed out of the room.

Which was fine. He didn't need Cynthia any more than he needed anyone else.

He was deep in a fucked up account when he heard a tentative knock at his door. "What?"

It wasn't Cynthia, who was never tentative. It was the receptionist. "There's someone here to see you… he says his name is…"

The unnamed someone pushed his way past her, and stood in front of Brian's desk, arms folded pugnaciously across his chest. Brian groaned. "That's fine, Darla."

"Delia."

"Whatever. You can go."

She closed the door behind her, and Brian looked up at his oldest friend. Former friend. "So, Mikey, to what do I owe this unbelievably rude and unwelcome intrusion?"

Michael slammed a newspaper down in front of Brian. "Did you see this? Did you know about it?"

Brian glanced at it. "What is it?"

"Look at it." Michael sounded grim, even for a certified drama queen like him.

Brian opened the paper, and checked the headline. "What do you want me to say? He's his ex-partner. Of course he's going to give him some plum city job."

"He's putting Kenneth Reichert, who is a pedophile and a murderer, in charge of social services for the entire city." Michael was choking on his words.

"Apparently so." Brian kept his eyes on his computer.

"We'll never get Hunter back now."

Brian looked up without meaning to. "You never were going to get him back. This doesn't change anything."

Michael stared at him, then shook his head. "You know, Ma told me. She said you'd finally sold your soul to the devil. But you know what, Brian? I didn't believe her."

Brian snorted. "But now you do?"

"What the fuck am I supposed to think? I don't even know you anymore."

Brian stood up. "You never did, I guess. Because this is who I am." He gestured at the newspaper. "And this is just business. And politics. It's a lot of noise, and in the end, nothing will change."

"Everything already changed. But you don't give a fuck, as long as you get your dream of New York. Well, enjoy it. You can't get out of town soon enough for me." And then Michael Novotny became the second person to slam Brian's office door that day.

The rest of the week passed, and Brian went to the office, to Babylon, to bed, then back to the office. He almost found himself dreading the weekend, something that he didn't think had ever happened before.

The night before New Year's Eve, he was standing in his loft, staring out the window, a bottle of scotch in his fist.

It was half-empty, and two hours before, it had been full. That was back when Brian was still planning on getting dressed and going to Babylon, but the idea had lost its appeal as the level of scotch in the bottle went down.

It wasn't that the club would be empty. It had been full every night that week, because there wasn't anywhere else to go. The Sap had left the backroom open, and given the club's highly publicized closing on New Year's Eve, the cops were ignoring it.

The Liberty Diner was going to stick it out until the end of January, but after that, a chain Chinese restaurant was opening in its place. And nearly every empty storefront on the street was being renovated, upscaled, and cookie-cuttered into a new existence.

Well, soon Brian would have a new existence, too, in New York, opening Vanguard's office there. The Pitts would survive Stockwell, and even if it wouldn't, there wasn't jackshit Brian Kinney could do about it now. That day had passed.

He took another gulp of scotch, and realized someone was knocking at his door. He snorted. Probably Mikey, coming to rip another few pieces of flesh off his back.

Brian figured maybe he deserved it, so he answered the door. But it wasn't Mikey. It was that blond kid, Justin, the angel from Babylon.

Justin looked from Brian's bloodshot eyes to his messed up hair, and down to the bottle in his hand. Brian thought he looked sad, but when he looked back up, his face was as cheerful as ever. "Hey."

"Hey." Brian shook his head. "What the fuck…"

"… am I doing here. I know." He laughed. "I was just bored and didn't know your phone number, so I thought I'd stop by and see if you wanted to fuck."

Brian couldn't help it. He laughed. "Well, you're the only fag in Pittsburgh who's speaking to me, so come the hell in." He stepped away elaborately, and took another drink from his bottle. He wiped his mouth with his arm, then held the bottle out to Justin, one eyebrow raised.

Justin took the bottle and drank from it, then set it on the counter. He stepped up to Brian and put his hands flat on his bare chest.

Brian felt his breath catch in his throat, and, unbelievably, that same dizziness from the last time start to tug at the edges of his consciousness. He stepped back from Justin like his touch burned him.

Justin looked confused. "What's wrong?"

Brian shook his head, not sure why he'd done that. He was just drunk, and the kid was hot. He grabbed Justin's wrist and pulled him back in, kissing him hard and deep.

Justin was up on his toes, almost humming into Brian's mouth, rubbing his cock on Brian's thigh. Feeling on somewhat more familiar ground, Brian half walked, half-carried Justin to the bedroom. And then that thing happened again, where they were naked on the bed, tangled around each other, and Brian had no idea how they got there.

But he didn't care, because Justin was sliding down him, showering his chest and belly with kisses, wrapping his mouth around the head of his cock, licking and sucking. It was a swirl of wet tongue and hard lips, his mouth sliding down, all the way down, taking him so deep Brian arched his back and shouted. His hands were in Justin's short hair, and he was pressing up off the bed, his heels digging into the mattress. He couldn't believe the sounds he was making, but then again, he couldn't believe the mouth this kid had.

Justin massaged Brian's perineum, and that was it. He started to come, his jaw clenched, his fists closed so hard on Justin's hair it must have hurt. He came and came until his thigh muscles were shaking, and he just kept coming, jerking into Justin's mouth. And when he was finally done, when he was lying back on the pillows nearly gasping, covered in sweat, Justin crawled up his body and kissed him, softly, and slipped a tongue of Brian's own come into his mouth.

Brian opened his eyes, and Justin's head was on his chest, his fingers tracing the outline of Brian's abs. He hesitated, and put his hand in Justin's hair. "Wow."

Justin looked up at him, and smiled. "Hi there."

Brian licked his lips, and cleared his throat. "That was great."

Justin smiled harder. "Thanks."

Brian trailed his finger over Justin's shoulder blades. "You suck cock like an angel, too."

Justin laughed. "Angels suck cock?"

"Apparently."

Justin surprised him by kissing him, hard, and then sighing while he laid his head back on Brian's chest. "I should go."

Brian's hand stilled in his hair. "Why?" Then he frowned. When the fuck did he ever ask that question?

Justin just kissed his chest. "I have to get to work."

"You're dancing tonight?"

Justin nodded against Brian's skin.

"Maybe I'll come by."

Justin's smile lit up the whole loft. "That would be great."

"The Sap won't like it." Brian wasn't sure why he said that. Who cared what the Sap liked or didn't like?

Justin seemed to agree, because he shrugged. "Tomorrow's my last night, the club's closing, who gives a fuck what the Sap says?"

"Where are you going after tomorrow? Back to school?"

Justin didn't answer right away. "It's kind of unclear right now. But maybe." He looked up at Brian. "How about you?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, didn't you say you were going somewhere after the New Year?"

Brian thought, but he didn't remember saying that. Of course, he didn't remember taking his pants off, either. "I'm moving to New York, opening a new office for the ad agency I'm a partner in."

Justin was watching him. "That sounds like a big accomplishment. You're so young."

Brian snorted. "Thanks. It'll be a lot of work, but it's what I've been aiming for my entire career."

"That must make you feel proud." Justin's voice sounded sleepy.

Proud. Brian didn't know why he felt like crying all of a sudden, but he pushed it away. "If you have to get to work, you better not fall asleep."

Justin sighed, opened his eyes, and sat up. "Yeah. Can I…"

Brian waved his hand at the bathroom. "It's all yours."

He prowled back into the kitchen while Justin showered, but the scotch bottle was empty. That's weird, he thought. Justin couldn't possibly have finished the whole thing in one swallow.

He was still staring at the bottle when Justin came out, rubbing his hair with a towel, his pants half-undone and his shirt over his arm. He came up and kissed Brian on the jaw, then pulled his shirt on and fastened his pants. "I'd better go."

Brian nodded.

"Will I see you later?"

Brian shrugged. "Maybe." As if there was anywhere else to go.

Justin just flashed him that smile, grabbed his jacket, and left. Brian stood staring at the door for a long time, before he headed for the bedroom. Fuck dancing angels. Fuck the Sap. Fuck Babylon. He was going to sleep until New Year's Eve was over.

But he didn't. He woke up the next morning, early, his mouth full of sludge and his eyes crusted shut. Maybe he had finished that bottle of scotch, he thought. Maybe Justin hadn't even stopped by and given him that unbelievable blowjob. Maybe it was just a dream.

He stretched, and froze. He slowly opened one eye, and then shut it again. Because Justin was sprawled out next to him, sound asleep, one hand resting on Brian's wrist, and a leg thrown casually over Brian's legs.

Brian's heart was pounding, and the dryness in his mouth cut through even the taste of last night's booze. What the fuck? Justin had left. Brian had gone to sleep. And Brian Kinney didn't _cuddle_, asleep or awake.

He almost threw himself out of bed, leaving Justin burrowed into the pillows. Brian stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to decide if he'd lost his mind, or if he really needed to give up drugs until he got to New York, just in case Anita really was trying to kill him.

But he hadn't done any drugs at all the night before.

He shoved his hand through his hair, and shook his head. Justin appeared in the doorway, rubbing sleep out of his eyes, and went to the toilet and started to pee. Brian almost asked him where he came from, but something kept him from saying it. But he didn't get in the shower with Justin; he waited until he was done, and showered by himself.

When he came out, Justin was dressed and standing at the open refrigerator door, almost pouting. "You really don't keep any food here, do you?"

Brian shrugged. "There's coffee."

Justin made a face. "I don't really like coffee. Can we go get something to eat?"

Brian rubbed the bridge of his nose, and agreed. This kid is a hypnotist, he thought. That's what it is.

And he must have been, because the next thing Brian knew, they were pushing their way into the diner, and it was definitely a very, very bad idea.

Debbie was laughing when he walked in, and her laugh cut out the minute she saw him. He flicked his eyes down the row of booths, and almost laughed out loud himself when he saw Michael and Ben sitting with Melanie and Lindsay, and Gus in a high chair at the end of the table. How fucking perfect.

Justin was moving him towards an empty table near the front of the diner, and he sat down with his back to everyone. Justin seemed oblivious to the silence, but no one came to fill Brian's coffee cup or bring them menus, so Brian knew eventually Justin was going to figure it out.

Someone came and stood next to them, but Brian was pretty sure it wasn't a waitress. He barely glanced up, knowing it would be Lindsay. And it was, with Gus in her arms. He moved over just enough for her to sit next to him, and took the little boy when she held him out.

"Hey, sonny boy," Brian said. "Come to see your sperm donor?"

"Brian… you're his father. Don't call yourself that." Lindsay sounded angry.

Brian glanced at Justin for a second. He looked dismayed, but not surprised. "Mel is more his father than I'll ever be."

He bounced Gus on his legs, and smiled at him. Gus smiled back, and Brian took a deep breath. "He won't miss me. And I know Melanie won't miss me."

"I'll miss you." Her voice was soft.

Brian looked at her. "No, you really won't. Trust me on this."

She shook her head, and stole a look at Justin across the booth. "I'm Lindsay. This is Gus, Brian's son."

Justin let loose with one of his most dazzling smiles, and Lindsay's eyes widened. "I'm Justin. I'm a… friend of Brian's."

Brian snorted, but didn't correct him.

Lindsay seemed to understand, though, and turned back to Brian. "Isn't there anything you can do about this Reichert thing?"

Brian laughed, bitterly. "Not a fucking thing."

"Brian…"

"Lindsay…" His voice was mocking.

"God damn it, Brian! Don't you care about anything? You've gotten what you wanted. You're going to New York. Do you have to leave everything in ruins behind you when you go?"

She grabbed Gus off his lap and went out to the sidewalk. Melanie didn't even look at him as she followed her out. Brian didn't turn around to look at Ben and Michael, but the minute Lindsay and Melanie disappeared down the street, he stood up. Even though they hadn't ordered, he threw a handful of bills on the table. "Come on." He didn't wait to see if Justin followed, just left.

He felt Justin's hand on his arm, and stopped just beyond the diner windows. He didn't turn around.

"Brian. What's going on? What happened? Why is everyone angry at you?"

Brian shrugged. "It doesn't matter. It's done, and I can't change any of it. It's too late."

Justin came around in front of him. "Maybe not. What did you do?"

Brian just shook his head. "It's more what I didn't do."

Justin just waited, his eyes steady on Brian's.

Brian took a deep breath. "It's all in the past, now. Over and done. No apologies, no regrets."

The kid gave a smile, but not his usual sunny one. "That only works if you actually don't do something you wish you hadn't." He hesitated. "Maybe it's not really too late. Maybe there's still someone who can do something. Maybe even me."

Brian laughed out loud. "You? Fix this? Some piece of blond boy ass I picked up on the street?"

He'd have thought Justin would flinch or look hurt, but the only thing Brian saw in his eyes was sadness. Justin reached up and brushed his fingers across Brian's lips, and he felt a sensation of warmth where they'd touched him, and something that felt like tears stinging his eyes. And then Justin walked away.

Brian almost went after him, but he got a grip on himself. He walked down Liberty Avenue, and looked at all the empty stores. He looked down the alleys at the closed up bathhouses, and looked at all the posters advertising the closing night extravaganza at Babylon. "Babylon's End," they called it. Brian couldn't have come up with anything better himself.

He almost stopped at Woody's, but the last time he'd been in there one of the bartenders had refused to serve him. They weren't so fussy at Babylon; no one the Sap hired ever had too many strong ethical principles. But it was too early for Babylon to be open.

Brian sat on the steps of what used to be Torso and was about to become a bath products store. He smoked a cigarette, and then another one, enjoying making a little pile of butts on the family-friendly street in front of him.

He got up abruptly, and walked back to his car. He drove to City Hall, and walked in the door, heading for the offices of the council members. It was New Year's Eve, but he was pretty sure he'd find Councilman Deekins there, plotting the resistance. Brian almost laughed at the thought, but he just knocked on the door of his office.

The man didn't trust him, didn't want to listen. There were other people in the room, and one of them left after a while, no doubt running off to rat him out to Stockwell. Well, he'd known that would happen when he came here.

"But there's no proof of that," Deekins said. "The police closed the investigation. What can I do? It's over."

Brian shook his head. "Not necessarily, Councilman. I don't think anyone's ever really put all the pieces together. Because I'm the only one with all the pieces." And he reached inside his jacket and laid a video tape on the table. "Just watch it. Give it to the media. Whatever you need to do with it."

Deekins stared at Brian across his cluttered desk. "Mr. Kinney, did you see that aide leave the room a little while ago?"

Brian jerked a nod.

"Do you know where she was going?"

"To tell Stockwell I'm here. Who will then call my partner at the ad agency, who will undoubtedly call his attorney, and get me barred from setting foot in the building while he prepares a huge lawsuit against me."

"And you'd go through all that on the off chance that I can do something with this information?"

Brian shrugged. "That about wraps it up."

"You've got guts, I'll give you that. But your timing's bad."

Brian stood up. "I know. It really couldn't be worse, could it? But at least I tried." Deekins tried to hand him the tape, but Brian shook his head. "Keep it. What the fuck will I do with it?" And he walked out.

He drove to the old, rundown bar where he'd used to go to find his father. The bartender recognized him, in a vague sort of way, and kept refilling his glass until Brian finally stopped him.

He was too drunk to drive, definitely, and it was too far to walk. He told the guy to call him a cab, but he didn't remember it coming, and he definitely didn't remember asking to go to Babylon. And when had he changed into a black shirt?

He looked around the club, watching the crowd of wall-to-wall men, mostly shirtless and covered in sweat, with clouds of glitter falling all around them. There were dancers on every platform, on the stage, and on the bars. His eyes scanned them until he saw Justin, not in angel wings tonight, but in dark blue shorts and nothing else, not even shoes. He was shaking his ass at the men in front of him, and he was laughing.

Brian was all the way across the club, but he could hear Justin laugh over the music. He stared at him, and Justin turned and smiled, and held out his hands to the men in front of him. They happily pulled him down, fondling his crotch and ass, running their hands over his sweaty, glittering arms and chest. Justin just smiled and moved away, heading straight for Brian.

"Are you feeling better?"

Brian just looked at him, then said, "I don't think so."

Justin touched his arm, and Brian felt strange, kind of sick to his stomach. Sweat broke out on his forehead. "What's happening to me?"

"You're really drunk." Justin's voice was soft, so soft Brian wasn't sure how he heard it.

"Am I?"

Justin was pulling him by the hand towards the front door, but Brian stubbornly refused to move. "You're working."

Justin shook his head. "I'm done for the night." And Brian squinted, because Justin had his clothes on, and a warm jacket. And Brian was wearing his coat, too, and they were standing in front of the club.

"How the fuck do you do that?" Brian wasn't moving one more inch without some serious explanations.

Justin sighed. "Do what?"

"Make everything… move."

Justin shook his head. "You're drunk. Why don't you let me take you home?"

Brian stared at him, then slowly said, "Okay."

They started walking, but Brian stopped again. "I don't have my car."

"That's okay, we'll get a cab. Or we can walk, it's not that far. I walked it before."

"You," Brian said, "can make walking very strange."

Justin didn't answer, just put his arm around Brian's waist. "It's okay. We're almost there."

"No." Brian stopped, and pulled Justin into the alley. He pushed him against the brick wall, and started to open his pants. Justin looked exasperated, but Brian bent his head down and kissed him. After a minute, the kid melted against him, and Brian felt confident again.

He turned Justin around, and he crossed his arms on the brick wall, resting his forehead on them. Brian opened his jeans, and felt the freezing air hit his skin. His fingers were so cold he could hardly get the condom on. He pressed his body against Justin's, and the warmth spread all through him, like a blanket wrapped around them both, keeping the heat in. He felt his cock slide into wet hot tightness, and buried his face in Justin's hair. He was moving in and out of him, and still felt strange. He kept his eyes closed and tried not to think about anything except the ache in his balls, the burn at the bottom of his spine.

Brian started to come, and opened his eyes, but nothing was what he thought it should be. He was in the backroom of Babylon, but just for a minute. He was at the baths, and then in the diner, laughing with Michael. He saw Emmett dancing, arms in the air, and then he was at Woody's, hearing Ted setting himself up for an insult. And he heard Hunter's voice, saying, "I can hustle that cop, I can get the DNA Carl wants." But Brian brushed him off, told him to stay out of it. Just like he'd told Debbie. Just like he'd told himself.

Brian was standing on the roof of a building, and Justin was next to him, his arm around his waist. Brian stared at the street below, and across at the river. "This is the loft," he said, confused.

Justin nodded, but didn't say anything.

Brian looked down at him, and, not for the first time, he thought Justin was glowing just a little. He'd tried not to think about it before, but either he was going insane, or Justin was… what? "Who are you?" Brian was whispering.

Justin looked at him. "You know who I am."

Brian snorted, and pulled away from him. "No, I fucking don't."

Justin hesitated. "Let's just say I'm the answer to a prayer."

"My prayers? The service where you come from is slow, because I haven't prayed in more than 15 years."

"It wasn't your prayer."

"My sainted mother? The answer to my sainted mother's prayers was a cocksucking angel?" Brian started to laugh, then took a drink from the bottle in his hand. Then he stared at it. Where had that come from?

He shook his head, and jumped up on the ledge of the building. Justin didn't move, but Brian had the same feeling of warmth he'd felt in the alley, almost like a net holding him back from the edge. He thought if he jumped, or fell, it would hold him, and bring him back.

Justin was standing on the ledge next to him, and he had his arm around him again. "Don't do it."

Brian took another swallow from the bottle. "Do what?"

"Jump."

Brian laughed. "Aren't you supposed to tell me all this can be mine if I just throw myself off and let the angels catch me?"

Justin shook his head, and smiled faintly. "Wrong story. I'm not the devil."

"Oh right. You're an angel." He said it with a sneer, but when he glanced down at Justin, the little shit was glowing again. "Stop that."

Justin shook his head. "I'm not doing anything. You just see it more sometimes than others. It has nothing to do with me."

Brian drank more scotch and thought about that, but decided it was bullshit.

"So, whose prayers are you the answer to?" They were standing on the roof again, off the ledge. He decided not to notice that. He'd figure this all out later, after he killed Anita for whatever she was doing to him.

"Does it matter?"

"Not my mother. No way would God be so cruel as to send a gay angel to answer my mother's prayers."

Justin laughed. "It wasn't your mother, but really, what other kind of angel could anyone send to Brian Kinney?"

"There really are gay angels?"

Justin made a gesture with his hand. "Here I am."

Brian shook his head. "Here you're not. I have to be fucking hallucinating this whole thing."

"Okay." Justin sounded way too agreeable.

Brian stared at him. "Debbie. Oh my god, Debbie prayed me up a sweet cocksucking gay angel, didn't she?"

Justin leaned against him. "Does it really matter, Brian? And Debbie has no idea who I am. This isn't about her, it's about you."

Brian drank more scotch. "She must be a real pain in the ass to God, always telling him what to do, and when, and how, and what to wear while he's doing it."

Justin laughed. "She's very insistent."

"Not exactly the 'thy will be done' type."

"Sometimes," Justin said, "It's good to say exactly what you want."

"For all the fucking good it does." Brian started to take another drink.

Justin put his hand on the bottle and stopped it from reaching Brian's mouth. "What do you want, Brian?"

Brian suddenly pulled his arm back and hurled the bottle at the brick wall of the stairwell. "I fucking want it all not to have happened. I want to go back and do it all over again. Can you make that happen, angel? Can you rewrite the past? Because unless you can, just fuck off."

Brian felt cold, then, and he stared at Justin, frightened that the kid was going to vanish. But Justin stepped closer to Brian, and wrapped his arms around him. Brian felt the wind blowing, hard, so hard he thought it would blow him off the roof, and he clung to Justin.

The light shimmered with the wind, and it was just like Babylon when he'd done some E and was dancing. It was like glitter falling, only it was blowing across him, through him, slicing him into tiny little pieces inside. He tasted blood on his lips, and felt tears running down his face. Justin was holding his hand, and looking at him over his shoulder, dancing with him. At Babylon, in the street on a summer's night, in the loft with the lights out, his body moving against Brian's in that odd rhythm from the first night at the club. And the sharp glitter stopped cutting him, and just became wind again, and he opened his eyes. His lips were pressed against Justin's hair, and their arms were still wrapped around each other.

At first Brian thought it was silent, but then he realized it was just that the wind had stopped racing by. He could hear a television in the background, and the distant noise of laughter and music, shouts that sounded happy.

The television was talking about Stockwell, and Brian turned around. It was the bar at Woody's, but it was empty. Even the bartenders were gone. He tried to make that make sense, and couldn't. He couldn't even make himself ask Justin what was going on.

"And now for the first comments from Mayor-elect Deekins…" The newscaster's voice was cheerful – the same way it had been when she announced Stockwell's victory back in November.

Brian shook his head. "I don't understand…" He felt a pounding in his forehead, and Justin stood on his toes and kissed him there. The pain lessened and went away, but Brian just stood there, his forehead resting against Justin's, not thinking. Then he shook his head again, and repeated it. "I don't understand."

Justin rested a finger on his lips. "Stockwell lost the election."

Brian stared at the TV, then at him. "Justin… what the fuck did you do?"

He smiled. "You did it."

Brian's hands tightened on Justin's arms. "I did… what?"

"You changed it." Justin moved and grabbed Brian's hand, and Brian followed him to the door. Outside the street was full of people dancing and laughing. Music was pouring out of the clubs, and one guy had climbed up on top of a truck roof and was unfurling a rainbow flag over the crowd.

They stood on the stairs, and Brian looked down at Justin. Something was different, something more than just the weather and the date on the calendar and the name of the guy running City Hall. He brushed his thumb across Justin's cheek, and he smiled up at Brian.

Brian cleared his throat. "I'm going to forget everything, aren't I? I already am."

Justin smiled again. "You'll remember the things that matter."

"Will you remember?" Brian was staring into Justin's eyes.

"I'll remember what you remember. I'll be just like you."

There wasn't even a touch of sadness in Justin's voice, but Brian's fingers dug into Justin's arms. "Just like me? Justin… you didn't…"

Brian couldn't really remember what he was saying, and the next thing he knew, he was nuzzling into Justin's throat, kissing his hair, and Justin was pressing against him on the stairs. He heard Michael's voice calling his name, and saw Hunter was with him, and felt a moment's confusion. What was Hunter doing with Michael?

But he walked down the stairs, and gave Michael his car … my car? He thought for a second. But he had tossed Michael the keys. He caught Justin's eyes on him, warm and bewildered at the same time.

"Now I've lost everything," he said.

Justin just shook his head, and looped his arm around his neck. "Not everything."

Brian kissed him and tangled his hands in his hair, wondering why it felt so long under his fingers. Then he followed Justin down into the music and laughter.


End file.
